My middle child took great pains today to look like a basketball player. He literally changed outfitsall morning trying to find the right ensemble. And in the end, he felt like a superstar.

Which makes me think.

How much time do I spend trying to put everything together - right smile, right clothes, right words - so that I can play the part? Who am I trying to fool, anyway? I don't have my stuff together. And I certainly don't want to be unapproachable because other people think I do have my stuff together, because I wanted them to think I do, even though I don't.

I want to be me. A mess. A growing, changing, becoming-less-messy mess, but still. A mess, just the same. And I want other people who are messy to know that I'm ok with their mess, and that I'll enter into that with them.